


Into Your Arms

by Pennywiser



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Coming Out, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-it fic, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Richie goes to a Gay Club, and he makes out, being outed, eddie appears in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennywiser/pseuds/Pennywiser
Summary: When Richie leaves Derry for the second time in his life, he kind of hopes that he’ll forget again.Richie goes to a gay club. The picture circulating around the internet afterwards is very interesting. At least Eddie thinks so.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this one!

When Richie leaves Derry for the second time in his life, he kind of hopes that he’ll forget again. Life, he had decided, was so much easier without the knowledge that a crazy alien clown had tried to kill you and your friends when you were kids. Richie is sure that it would be easier without the knowledge of a crazy alien clown trying to kill you in your forties. Richie is also sure that life would be easier without Eddie being on his mind _constantly_. He can’t stop thinking about him. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees him, the way he had looked when Its claws had pierced through him. His soft, irregular breathing as Mike and Bill had carried him out of Its lair. His eyes fluttering, when he finally, finally woke up. The way he had smiled at Richie, whispering ‘We killed that motherfucker’, his voice still hoarse.

Then Myra had come, snatching Eddie away from them.

Richie had forgotten that he was in love with Eddie. Well, looking back he thinks that he hadn’t _forgotten_, he just hadn’t remembered. Just like, he hadn’t remembered Eddie. Or the other losers. Or Pennywise. But he hadn’t forgotten them, they were always sort of there, in the back of his mind, like an afterthought. Odd, how he only realises it now.

However, he had remembered that he was gay, even though he desperately tried to forget that one. For a gay man, he had slept with quite the number of women, and a whooping zero men. The women weren’t _bad_ per se, he even liked some of them. But it never felt right. Richie had hoped, that if he slept with enough women, then maybe one day he would grow to enjoy it.

When he was a kid, he hated olives, despised them. His mom had told them, that he’d grow into liking them as he gets older and his taste buds evolved.

Richie still hates olives.

After the women, Richie just gave up sex as a whole. Sure, there had been a lot of jerking off. Like a lot, a lot. But that was different, it was between him and the incognito tab on his laptop. That incognito tab was the only thing that knew that Richie liked men. How pathetic is that?

He had been so careful as well, not to let anything slip. When he drank, he drank alone, afraid of accidentally coming out to his friends, his producers or anyone really. Whenever he saw two men holding hands, an ad featuring two male lovers, anything that seemed even remotely _gay_ in any way, he had looked away.

And then came that fucking clown, taunting him, teasing him and it had been even more terrifying than the first time. Sometimes, at night, Richie can still hear that little song of his. It is quite catchy, he’ll give him that.

But the clown was dead, they had killed It, and, against all odds, Eddie had lived. That was when Richie almost blew his cover. He had gone mental, thinking Eddie had died. More than the others. He vaguely remembers screaming his name over and over again. Eddie wouldn’t answer. The thought of Eddie dying had been unbearable. It still is.

So, Richie sort of hopes to forget again, to forget the pain, and maybe even to forget Eddie. But they have a group chat now, appropriately named _The Losers Club,_ and Richie’s phone won’t stop vibrating from the new messages arriving constantly.

Bev and Ben are in France and the rest is being bombarded with pictures of them. Candid shots of Bev, sipping on a glass of wine, Ben standing on a cliff, Ben sleeping, cute couple photos – the whole deal. Mike is off traveling the world too; no wonder having stayed in Derry for so long. He sends less pictures though, most of them of sunsets or sunrises. They look the same, wherever he is.

Bill has gone back to shooting his movie. He’s told them that he and Audra, his wife, had been to see a marriage counsellor. Apparently, things were fine between them now. Eddie’s fine too, thank God. He’s been updating them about his health. His injury has healed nicely, he’s sent them a picture of his naked chest to show off his scar. Richie almost had a heat attack. (Sometimes, he looks at the picture when he can’t sleep. He feels like a dirty old man then, but he can’t help it.)

And Richie?

Richie is aimlessly wandering the streets of New York. He has fired his writer and aims to write a stand-up routine on his own. Turns out, comedy is hard when you can’t stop thinking of your best friend, the love of your life, almost getting offed by a murder clown. It’s really not that funny.

He’s not as active in the group chat, he doesn’t really do anything that’s worth mentioning to them. He just sleeps and eats and sleeps some more. When he gets a headache, he’ll take stroll around New York. Sometimes he replies with a snarky comment, to stay on brand, but those have become less and less.

It’s gotten late, Richie realises. The sun is setting, and Richie looks around for a sign to the nearest subway stop. His eyes get caught by a neon-sign. _Paradise_ it says in bright, pink, flickering letters. There’s a rainbow flag hanging next to the sign.

_Fuck it_, Richie thinks and strides towards the bar.

He almost turns on his heel when he enters. The music is blaring, he doesn’t recognize the song. It must be new. New as in, released after 1997. The light is dimmed, but there are lasers shooting over the crowd.

_What the fuck am I doing here, _Richie asks himself, but something has awakened his curiosity.

He’s a forty-year-old gay man, and he has never been inside a gay bar before. He doesn’t quite now what to expect. His mind conjures up images of stout men in leather harnesses. Barley legal boys in tiny shorts. Drag Queens.

He’s surprised that most people he can see, look completely normal. Sure, most are a bit younger than him, but Richie wouldn’t stand out due to his age. There’s plenty of older looking men as well.

His heart beats fast and Richie realises, that he’s nervous. He gulps and makes his way down to the bar to order a drink. He sits down on one of the stools – it’s surprisingly comfy- and scans the menu, that’s written with chalk on a blackboard.

_What the fuck is a Miss Vanjie_, he thinks and orders a Whiskey. The bartender is shirtless, there’s glitter on his chest. Richie’s gaze lingers on his pecks. The bartender winks at him as he sets down the drink before him. Richie blushes and turns around to face the other way. _That’s so pathetic, man_, he thinks, _blushing just because some dude winks at you._

He lets his eyes wander over the crowd. It’s just people having fun. Suddenly he gets an idea. He takes his phone out of his back pocket and snaps a picture. He quickly checks if there’s not anything screaming _THIS IS A GAY BAR! GAY!!!_ on the picture, but it’s pretty dark anyways. It just looks like a regular club. He sends his to _The Losers Club_.

**Richie**: _See, this old man can have fun too_

He pockets his phone again and tends back to his Whiskey.

“Come here often?”, he hears a voice close to his left ear.

“Shit that was really lame, I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen you here before”, the voice says as Richie turns around. A man stands next to him. He has brown hair and looks as of he’d be bit shorter than Richie.

“I’m Dan”, the man extends his hand.

“Richie”, Richie answers as he shakes his hand.

“You’re that comedian, right?”

“Oh”, Richie says, “Uhm. Yeah, that’s me.”

“Don’t worry man”, Dan laughs, “I won’t tell any gossip magazines that I saw you here or anything like that.”

“I think you grossly overestimate the media’s interest in me”, Richie grins. That’s not entirely true. Richie knows, that there are various media outlets who would be interested in his presence at a gay bar. But he pushed that thought to the back of his head.

“What are you drinking, Dan?”, Richie asks, no idea where his sudden burst of confidence is coming from.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Richie orders another Whiskey from the shirtless bartender. He winks at him again. This time Richie winks back.

Dan and Richie clink their glasses together, but Richie sets the glass back down on the bar and eyes Dan. He’s quite attractive. There’s a resemblance to Eddie, it’s small, but it’s there, undeniably. Richie supposes, he has a type.

“So, what do you do, Dan?”, he asks as the other man sets down his glass.

“I’m a police officer”, Dan replies, “I hope you have a thing for men in uniforms”, he grins.

Richie’s pretty sure that he does.

“Who doesn’t?”, he chuckles in an attempt to hide is uncertainty.

“And you? You do a lot of writing?”

“Oh. I haven’t actually written a lot of my own material, to be honest.”

“Shame”, Dan says, “I was hoping to have a good laugh tonight.”

Richie takes another sip. His confidence grows with the alcohol.

“You should see my dick, then”, he replies.

Dan throws his head back, laughing.

“Oh, I’m planning to”, he says and stands up. He grabs Richie’s hand.

“Come on, let’s dance!”

Dan pulls Richie onto the dancefloor before he has the chance to resist and suddenly, Richie finds himself in the midst of sweaty bodies, all standing too close together, with Dan’s arm flung around his neck, their bodies pressed against each other. Richie shuffles around awkwardly, he’s never been an avid dancer. Memories of a school dance – he must have been around 14 – come flooding back. The losers all sat on the bleachers, with the exception of Bill and Bev who were slow dancing in the half-heartedly decorated gym. Eddie and he would take turns making puking noises. All of them would pretend that they didn’t want to dance anyways, no matter if someone has asked them.

Ben would stare at Bev lovingly; Eddie and Richie would tease him about it mercilessly.

_Eddie and Richie_. How nice that sounds.

“Sorry, I’m not much of a dancer”, Richie leans down to Dan. He has to shout over the music.

“Don’t worry”, Dan shouts back, “I’m sure you have other qualities.”

Dan leans in to capture Richie’s lips with his own. Richie backs away instinctively.

“Sorry!”, Dan says immediately, “I thought- never mind.”

“No!”, Richie quickly chimes in, “It’s just, it’s been a while.”

_Pathetic_, Richie thinks, _this is just fucking sad. If Eddie were here, he’d piss himself laughing._

“That’s fine”, Dan smiles and leans in again, slowly this time, giving Richie enough time to retreat.

He doesn’t. Instead, he leans in and closes the gap between them.

Kissing a man, Richie feels, is not too different from kissing a woman actually. But he can feel light stubble against his face, Dan’s mouth tastes like Whiskey. When he grabs the other man’s hips, they’re not as soft. _This is nice_, Richie thinks, _certainly better than olives_.

They make out for a while. At one point, Dan’s hand finds its way underneath the hem of Richie’s shirt and he gasps at the sudden cool touch on his skin. When Dan’s mouth travels to his throat he moans. Thankfully, the music is so loud, that the people surrounding them pay them no mind, but Dan must have heard because Richie can feel him giggling, his mouth still nibbling close to Richie’s Adam’s apple. _Fuck._

Dan let’s go of Richie’s neck, planting kisses upwards. When he reaches his mouth again, he suddenly grabs Richie’s ass, making him moan once more. Dan uses his chance to slide his tongue back into the taller man’s mouth. His hands still have a firm grip on Richie’s butt and all Richie’s mind is able to fathom is: _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_.

“You wanna take me home?”, Dan’s hot breath is against his ear.

Richie can’t speak. He just nods.

Cool air hits them, as they leave the bar and Richie starts thinking clearly again, when they make their way towards the subway. Dan is clinging to his arm, like he’s afraid of getting lost and it makes Richie think of Eddie. Immediately his heart skips a beat. He wonders, what Eddie is up to now. Is he already asleep? Probably, it has gotten pretty late.

Richie realises, that he likes this; having a man on his arm. It triggers a protective instinct, he didn’t know he had. He would have liked it even more, if it was Eddie by his side.

The subway arrives, and the two of them sit down next to each other. Dan rests his head on Richie’s shoulder, his arm still around Richie’s. Richie lays down his head on top of Dan’s and closes his eyes. He feels tired, all of a sudden.

“You okay?”, Dan whispers next to his ear.

“Mhm-mhm”, Richie makes. He feels cold lips on the edge of his mouth.

Then there’s a flash. He opens his eyes and looks at the woman, sitting opposite of him. She still has her phone up.

“Sorry”, she blushes, “I’ll delete it. I’m sorry, I’m a big fan of yours.” She’s clearly embarrassed.

Richie just closes his eyes again, not bothering with an answer.

_She won’t delete it,_ he thinks, _it’ll be all over Twitter tomorrow. The whole world will know your dirty little secret. Your friends will know. Eddie will know._

But then he feels Dan’s body, the body of another man, next to him and suddenly he doesn’t care who knows.

On the way from the subway to Richie’s apartment complex, his energy rises again, and he feels less tired. Dan is on his arm, still somewhat tipsy, giggling about nothing in particular. Richie smiles at him fondly.

When Richie finally manages to turn the key in his door, distracted by shaking fingers and Dan’s hot breath against his neck, they stumble inside. Richie finds himself squeezed between the door and Dan, who starts attacking his mouth. When he bites down on Richie’s bottom lip, he cusses.

“Fuck, Dan”, he moans and Dan grins at him deviously. He can feel Dan’s hands on his shoulders, sliding down the colourful Hawaiian shirt that he is wearing. Then, his hands are at the hem of Richie’s shirt and before he knows it, he is shirtless in front of another man, for the first time in his life.

That’s when the self-doubt starts hitting him, when it starts crashing down on him like a wave. Dan looks fairly ripped; his shirt is tight around his biceps. Richie, however, had made a habit out of wearing baggy shirts. It’s no secret, that he doesn’t exactly know how to take care of himself. Most days, he orders pizza or Chinese food – though he might ditch the Chinese food for good now – and he’s sure that the last time he worked out was in school. Sure, he sweats a lot when he’s on stage, he’s always moving and the spotlights are hot, but Richie is sure, that this doesn’t qualify as a work-out. Long story short: Richie has a bit of a gut. He’s forty, damn it!

But then Dan looks at him, with what cannot be described otherwise than lust in his eyes.

“Fuck you’re hot”, he growls, and Richie’s knees turn to jelly.

“I bet you say that to all the boys”, he manages to joke but then there’s something else, an entirely different feeling, something he has never quite felt like this before.

It takes him a second to register that there’s a hand on his dick.

Dan is palming him through his jeans, and Richie let’s out a moan so embarrassingly high-pitched, he can almost hear Eddie’s voice making fun of him. _Was that your audition for a porno_, he would ask. Something of that sort, Richie is sure of that.

Dan, however, says nothing like that, he just breathes heavily before leaning in to kiss Richie again.

But the harm is done, Richie had imagined Eddie in Dan’s place and now there’s no turning back.

Dan’s hand fumble with Richie’s belt for a while, before he manages to untighten it. He curls his fingers around the waistband, but Richie stops him by covering Dan’s hands with his own.

“Wait”, he mumbles, because he has realised, that Dan is still fully clothed. The thought of being completely naked in front of a man, who hasn’t even taken his shirt off makes Richie shiver, it’s just too uncomfortable. Therefore, he grabs at the hem of Dan’s shirt and pulls it over the other man’s head in a swift motion.

He blinks at the sight of his chest. It looks wrong, somehow. It takes Richie a moment to figure out that the thing is, that there’s nothing wrong with Dan’s chest at all. It’s a perfectly normal, male chest. Sure, the muscles might be a bit more defined then on your average man, but it’s still just an ordinary chest.

Richie, however, had expected to see a scar.

A scar, like the one Eddie now has. _Shit_.

“You alright?”, Dan whispers.

_The fuck are you staring at, fuckface_ is what Eddie would have said.

“’m fine”, Richie says as he leans in again to kiss Dan.

Dan tries to take off Richie’s pants once more and this time he lets him. He then moves on to remove his own, tight, trousers. The stand opposite of each other, Richie in red-white striped boxer shorts, Dan in fitting black briefs. It’s very easy to notice Dan’s dick through the tight underwear and Richie can see that he’s already half hard. This sight makes his own cock twitch.

Dan takes a step forward, so that he’s pressing against Richie. His hand is sprawled out against the taller man’s lower abdomen. His fingers crawl downwards.

Richie takes a leap back.

“Shit, man, are you alright?”, Dan asks.

“No”, Richie breathes, “yes. It’s just that -ah fuck this is embarrassing. I just- I’ve never really done that before. With another man.”

“Dude”, Dan blinks, “that’s not cool. Like, I really don’t want to be some straight guy’s one-time fling. I don’t need that. “

“Oh no, no, no, no”, Richie puts his hands up in defence, “I am gay. I’m just- I’m just now coming to terms with it. It’s pathetic, I know.”

“Hey”, Dan says, his voice sounding unsure, “that’s fine. I get it. No need to be embarrassed.”

They look at each other.

“I could still blow you”, Dan offers with a shrug.

“No thank you”, Richie declines.

“Okay”, Dan shrugs again. He bends down to pull his pants back on and Richie follows his example.

“I’m sorry, this must have been a disappointing night”, Richie smiles weakly.

“It’s fine”, Dan assures him, “do you need someone to talk to? I mean, I have nowhere else to be and I’m a good listener. And you seem, no offense, but you seem kinda lonely.”

“I suppose, I am”, Richie breathes out through his nose, “I mean I do have friends, great ones, but they don’t live in New York so-“, he trails off.

“They don’t know?”, Dan asks, “that you’re gay?”

“No”, Richie says, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, it’s just that he hadn’t seen each other in a really long time and only met up again like a month ago. It didn’t come up.”

_It could have come up_, Richie thinks.

“Also”, Richie adds, “I has this really big crush on one of them, when I was like eleven. And seeing him again, just kind of brought back all those memories.”

“Damn.”, Dan says.

Richie doesn’t even know, why he’s telling him all of this. He’s only met the guy a few hours ago. He doesn’t even know his full name. Or his age. This is definitely weird he decides.

Still, he keeps on talking. After, what must have been hours, he has told Dan almost his entire life story. Leaving out all clown-related parts, of course.

Dan was right. He _is_ a good listener. At some point they had moved to Richie’s red couch and Richie had gotten them each a beer from his fridge. Dan had made affirming grunts to indicate that he was still listening. He had laughed, when Richie made a half-hearted joke. Sighed, when appropriate.

“And he’s married, you say?”

Richie nods, taking another sip of his beer.

“You think he’ll stay married?”

“Probably”, Richie mumbles, “I mean I don’t know the woman. He showed me a picture, she’s hideous. But Eddie’s not really the type for a divorce.”

“Do you have a picture of him?”, Dan asks.

“Lemme see”, Richie fishes out his phone from his back pocket. He’s got a few notifications about new messages, some Twitter notifications as well. He swipes them away with his thumb not really looking at them and opens his gallery.

He looks through his pictures for a moment and finds the one he has been looking for. It’s a group shot from their dinner at that Chinese place. Their reunion picture. _Well_, Richie thinks, _hardly a reunion without Stan_.

He zooms in on Eddie’s face and hands the phone to Dan who takes it to get a closer look.

“Cute”, he comments as he gives Richie’s phone back.

“He is”, Richie sighs and throws his head back.

They talk for some more. _It’s nice_, Richie decides, _being able to talk to someone who truly gets you. Who you can be yourself around. _

Dan leaves at about 3am and when Richie closes the door behind him, he feels how tired he has become. He doesn’t bother showering, even though he knows better, and brushes his teeth only superficially. _Eddie would hate that_.

Once he’s settled in bed, he takes his phone out again. There are more Twitter notifications. Absentminded he opens the app

Richie Tozier is trending.

_Shit_.

The picture of him and Dan, the one the lady on the subway must have taken, is all over his feed. It looks domestic. Them sitting so close to each other, Dan’s arm still intertwined with Richie’s. Dan’s head resting on his shoulder. Richie’s faint smile.

It’s all there, thousands of times.

Richie scrolls through the tag.

**@MadMegs56**

dis is cute. if i see anyone hating on my boi im sueing

**@joejoe98**

Huh. Never knew Tozier was into dudes. He’s got a good taste though

**@will11**

Ashjajhajialiajlaaw

**@dustybun**

THIS IS MAJOR NEWS!!!!

Richie swallows. He hasn’t been expecting that. The comments, the ones he has read at least, are all…nice. He hasn’t seen anyone calling him a faggot or worse. Sure, he’s only read a few of the tweets, but still. It’s not so bad. It’s really not so bad.

A new message arrives, just as Richie is about to put his phone down for the night. It’s from Eddie. Richie’s fingers tremble lightly as he clicks on it. He swallows.

Eddie’s sent him a screenshot of _that_ picture.

**Eds: ** _So, who’s your friend? ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not in the least surprised”, Eddie takes another sip of his coffee, “Just so you know. I totally knew.”
> 
> “Pretty sure, you’re not supposed to say something like that to someone who just came out. It minimizes the effort it took me to finally do it. Or some shit like that”, Richie mutters.
> 
> “Well, I don’t give a crap”, Eddie says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on the last chapter, they all put a really big smile on my face. This was only supposed to be two chapters long, but I think the story has a third one in it! Enjoy!

Richie wakes up to a loud banging on his door. He blinks a couple of times while his eyes adjust to the sunbeams that are lighting up his apartment and reaches for his glasses. The knocking – or rather the pounding – on his door continues. “For fucks sake”, Richie mutters as he shuffles over to the door. He hasn’t forgotten the events of last night. On the contrary, the first thought that had crossed his mind when he opened his eyes was _Fuck!_ _The whole world knows you’re gay_. Well, _the whole world_ might be an overstatement, Richie knows that he’s not actually that relevant. _Relevant enough to be trending on Twitter_ the voice inside his head chimes in and Richie wishes that there was a way to just stop thinking. To just turn it off.

“Fucking hell, Richie, open the goddamn door!”, the voice of his manager, Hernando, sounds on the other side.

Richie opens the goddamn door.

Hernando looks ridiculous as always. His legs are unproportionally short in comparison to his body and somehow. A too tight leather jacket strains against his belly, he has gotten even fatter than the last time Richie saw him. Which must have been about two weeks ago, when they were talking discussing Richie’s new stand-up routine that he was going to write himself. Richie hasn’t written a single joke yet. 

_So, the weirdest thing happened to me the other day, right? I was in this haunted house with some of my friends, because we were looking for this murder clown, you know? And there’s this fridge. And it just starts rumbling and out comes – you guys this actually happened – out comes the severed head of one of my childhood best friends. And we’re all there like ‘what the fuck’, but then it gets even crazier, because out of my friend’s head sprout this spider legs. And I turn to my best friend, who I’m also in gay love with, and say, I say: ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!’_

It just doesn’t have the right ring to it.

“What the fuck, Richard?”, Hernando stems his hands into his hips, “Care to explain, douchebag?”

“What do you want me to say?”, Richie asks helplessly and Hernando shoves past him into the flat.

“Richie”, he says in an earnest voice, “are you gay?”

Richie gulps.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?”

“You’re killing me, Richie! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“I-“, Richie stammers, “I didn’t want anyone to know, I guess.”

“Well, people know now. You shoulda told me Richie, you really shoulda told me. Just so we could have prepared for a situation like this!”, Hernando’s voice grows louder. “It’s not about you being into dudes”, he continues, “I really couldn’t care less who you do it with. But this is really bad for your branding. If we had known, we could have made it less straight-guy-in-a-locker-room-humour, you know?” Hernando puts on a dumb voice. “So, my girlfriend caught me masturbating over her friends Facebook page.”

“Is that supposed to be an impression?”, Richie asks, “because I don’t sound like that. That’s really offensive actually.”

“Do you see the problem here, Rich?”, Hernando ignores his complaint, “People are going to think you’re a fraud. Which you are. You’re gonna loose like 75% of your audience.”

“I’m sorry, what do you want me to do?”, Richie asks, “I can’t just stop being gay, I-“, he pauses, not knowing how to go on.

“I want to you to talk to me! I want you to be more careful! If you didn’t want people to know, you shouldn’t have gotten handsy with some twink on the fucking subway!”

“How do you know what a twink is?”, Richie asks.

“For Christ’s sake would you fucking focus?”, Hernando almost screams. “We can still fix this. We can regain your audience; gay humour is very popular with the younger generation these days.” Richie scoffs at that. _Gay humour_.

“You’re gonna have to comment on the whole thing”, Hernando continues, “tweet about it, post something on Instagram. Just acknowledge it somehow!”

“I don’t want this to become a big deal”, Richie says, now in a serious tone, “I don’t want to be ‘Richie Tozier the gay comedian who tells gay jokes’ ´, I want to be ‘Richie Tozier the comedian, who just happens to be gay and maybe occasionally tells gay jokes.’”

“And we can make that happen”, Hernando assures him, “you just have to be honest with me, man. The guy from the picture, is he your boyfriend?”

Richie shakes his head no.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Richie shakes his head again.

“Have you ever killed a man?”

“What?”, Richie is caught off guard.

“These are the kind of thinks I want to know, in case something like this happens again. So, call me as soon as any of these changes, capiche?”

Richie nods.

“Good”, Hernando says and slaps Richie on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later kiddo.”

“I’m older than you”, Richie mutters as he leads the way to the door to let Hernando out.

Richie steps into the shower and lets the scalding hot water hit his body. He’s aware that he’s going to look like a lobster later, but for now the heat is comforting.

He thinks about the events of last night, about Dan and about how _nice _it had felt to feel another man next to him. To kiss another man.

He thinks about the picture circulating on the internet. He hasn’t checked Twitter this morning, maybe he’s old news already. Richie would like that. He doesn’t want it to become a _thing_.

Richie thinks about Eddie’s text message.

He hasn’t answered him, he doesn’t know what to tell him. Eddie’s clever enough, he must have figured out what the picture means. He must know that Richie’s into men. So must the other Losers. Richie isn’t sure how he feels about that. On the one hand he is incredibly relieved. He doesn’t have to have that awkward conversation. Instead it’s going to be a different, probably no less awkward, talk. But he stills prefers that over, like, sitting his friends down and making a sort of announcement.

On the other hand, he feels like he didn’t get to tell them on his own terms. He’s sure that they’ll be irritated, and rightfully so. They’ve probably read about it online somewhere. They have found out at the same time as the rest of the world. Richie doesn’t think that it’s supposed to be that way.

He steps out of the shower and pats himself down with a towel. He doesn’t bother with blow-drying his hair. He steps into a fresh pair of sweatpants and pulls a shirt, that he blindly grabbed from his closet over his head. It’s a piece of merch. The colour is atrocious, it’s a deep shade of pink and on the front is a cartoonish drawing of his face. _Trashmouth-Tozier_ is written on it in the most hideous font imaginable. What can he say, Richie doesn’t design his own merch.

He looks like a dick.

He pushes the wet hair out of his face and makes his way to the kitchen aisle to make himself some coffee. On the way over, he grabs his phone which is still laying on the couch. He has 21 missed calls.

“Jesus”, Richie mutters. Ben had tried to call him three times, Bill four. Mike had made it to six times and Bev takes the crown with eight missed calls. There’s no calls from Eddie, no more messages.

_If Stan was alive_, Richie thinks, _I’d call him_. He vaguely remembers, how he once almost told him. He had made some boy laugh in the arcade, he doesn’t remember what he looked like. He remembers their knuckles brushing together while playing Street Fighter. He remembers coming up with the most ridiculous jokes, making the most ridiculous voices just to make the other boy laugh. He remembers that it worked, and he remembers asking himself why it wouldn’t work on Eddie. He remembers, how _good_ it had felt, getting the boy’s attention.

He remembers the shame he felt afterwards.

He had almost broken down to Stan that day. Stan would have understood. Stan would have made him feel better.

Richie misses Stan.

Richie’s phone starts vibrating in his hand. His screen tells him, that it’s Beverly calling for a ninth time.

“You are relentless, Marsh”, he picks up the phone.

“Richie”, she sounds surprised that he had actually taken the call, “Richie, goddamn it, I’ve been trying to call you for hours!”

“I was asleep”, he says.

“Have you, uh”, Bev sounds unsure, “Have you checked Twitter today by any chance?”

“Not today, no”, Richie answers.

“You probably should”, Bev clears her throat.

“I checked it las night though”, he can almost hear Bev rolling her eyes through the phone.

“Okay, then-“, Bev starts. Richie realises that she hasn’t thought this through.

“Richie”, she starts again, “are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine”, Richie says, “Really. My manager wasn’t impressed by the whole thing but I’m good.”

“You know you could have told us, right?”

Richie sighs. “I Know”, he says, and he does.

“I love you”, Bev says.

“I love you too”, Richie only manages to whisper. This is oddly emotional.

“So,” Bev says, her tone more cheerful, “When are we going to meet this guy?”

“Which guy?”, Richie asks confused.

“The one from the picture, dummy!”, Bev exclaims.

“Oh”, Richie makes, “You won’t. Meet him. It isn’t like that, I only met him last night.

Bev coughs on the other end of the line. Richie can distinctively make out the word _whore_.

“Fuck off, Marsh”, he grins.

“Can I ask you an honest question?”, Bev sounds more serious again, “If you promise you won’t take offense?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you in love with Eddie?”

Richie ends the call.

_Fuck,_ he thinks, _she knows. How the fuck can she know? Does everyone know? Does Eddie know? Surely, Eddie can’t know. Fuck._

His phone vibrates with an incoming message.

**Bev**: _I take that as a yes._

And then:

**Bev**: _Cute._

_I’m fucked_, Richie thinks.

He decides to take a nap. He hasn’t eaten breakfast yet, He’s been awake for less than two hours, but nevertheless he feels tired. He slumps down on the couch and closes his eyes.

Once again, he’s being woken up by someone at the door. It’s not a pounding this time, rather a gentle knocking. _Fucking Hernando_, he thinks, certain that it’s his manager again. But when he opens the door, squinting, because he isn’t wearing his glasses, it’s not Hernando at all.

“Eddie”, Richie says. And really. There he is. Eddie Kaspbrak in the flesh. He’s wearing black jeans and a white dress shirt. There’s a brown leather bag sitting by his feet.

“Nice shirt, asshole”, Eddie teases and bends down to pick up his bag. He strides past Richie into the apartment.

“Come in”, Richie says sarcastically as he closes the door. Eddie has already made himself comfortable on the couch.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get here?”, Richie stands hesitantly by the sofa.

“I took a taxi”, Eddie says.

“I mean, how did you get to New York, dickward?”

“Take a guess, genius. I hardly walked.”

They’re looking at each other. Richie feels like he’s in a staring contest. Blink first or your loose. But Richie is already a looser, so he blinks once, twice, and sits down next to Eddie. He keeps his distance though.

“Your apartment is disgusting”, Eddie remarks.

“Thanks, asshole.”

“Seriously”, Eddie scrunches his nose, “It smells in here.”

“What are you doing here, Eds?”, Richie asks.

“You never answered my text”, Eddie replies.

“So, you fly all the way to New York? Because I didn’t reply to one text? Clingy much?”

“Look, I was worried”, Eddie says defensively.

“I’m a grown man, I can handle myself”, Richie says.

“Can you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Richie, nothing about you exactly screams ‘Well-adjusted adult’!”

Richie crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you”, he sneers, “Mister-My-Wife-Says-I-Need-To-Go-Home.”

“Fuck you, Richie.”

They fall into an awkward silence. Richie stands up to look for his glasses and finds them laying on the kitchen counter. He puts them on, then takes them off again to wipe them on his shirt. It doesn’t help much, but at least he’s done something. He is reminded of the gross shirt he’s wearing and steps into his bedroom to change into something less self-centred. He sits down again, inspecting Eddie.

“I’m divorcing her”, Eddie says after a while.

“Why?”, Richie asks.

“You’ve met her.”

“No, actually, I haven’t”, Richie remarks, “I was at the Inn taking a shower and when I got back to the hospital, the others said that she took you.” _I didn’t get to say goodbye to you_, he wants to add. Maybe he would have told him then.

“Well, there you have it”, Eddie says, “That’s why I’m divorcing her. She wouldn’t even let me say goodbye to you.”

Richie looks at Eddie. He hopes he doesn’t look to lovesick.

“Good for you, then”, he mutters, “Where are you staying?”

“I was going to stay here, but this place is so gross, I think I’m just going to look for a hotel.”

“No, no, no, no”, Richie stammers too fast, “I can clean.”

“I believe that, when I see it”, Eddie grins.

Richie doesn’t clean. Instead he calls his cleaning lady.

“We can grab a coffee, while she’s here”, he suggests and so they find themselves in a small coffeeshop, only a few blocks away from Richie’s apartment complex. Richie orders a bagel, since he hasn’t had breakfast yet and a coffee topped with lots of cream and chocolate syrup. He needs the energy.

“That’s going to give you diabetes”, Eddie says, his voice full of disgust, “How can you drink that?” He takes a sip of his own black coffee.

“So”, he says, “shall we talk about the elephant in the room?”

Richie opens his mouth.

“I swear, Richie, if you bring my mom into this, I will leave”, Eddie says before Richie has a chance to chime in. Richie closes his mouth again.

“I’m not in the least surprised”, Eddie takes another sip of his coffee, “Just so you know. I totally knew.”

“Pretty sure, you’re not supposed to say something like that to someone who just came out. It minimizes the effort it took me to finally do it. Or some shit like that”, Richie mutters.

“Well, I don’t give a crap”, Eddie says, “You’re fucking old, you can take it.”

“I’m as old as you, shithead.”

“This one summer”, Eddie begins, “there was this kid that visited his grandma or something and you met him at the arcade. Fuck, you wouldn’t shut up about this guy. You went on and on about how cool and funny he was, and you wanted to show him the clubhouse so badly. I think you forced us to spend at least half of the summer in that arcade. God, it was infuriating.”

“You sound like you were jealous, Spaghetti”, Richie says and sips at his beverage. Eddie’s right, it probably is going to get him diabetes. He can feel his teeth rotting already.

“I also noticed how you used to check me out”, Eddie says nonchalantly. As if he was making a passing remark about the weather.

_Lovely weather we’re having, right? Quite hot for an October. I know you’re in love with me. Anyways, I hope we still get snow around Christmas. Damn Global Warming, right?_

Richie almost spits out his drink.

“Wh-what?”, he coughs.

“I’m not a moron, Richie-“

“Agree to disagree.”

“- and I’m not blind. I could feel your eyes on me.”

“You’re an asshole”, Richie is sure he resembles a tomato right now, “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, come on, Rich. I’m not mad or anything. I’m flattered, really. You have to admit, it’s a little funny. You were always going on about girls and tits and-“

“No”, Richie says loudly. A few heads turn around. “No”, he says again more quietly. “It really isn’t that funny, Eddie. It isn’t funny when a statue of Paul fucking Bunyan tries to eat you because of it.”

“Fuck”, Eddie says his voice lowering as well, “Pennywise, did he…?”

“Yes”, Richie tries to stop his hands from trembling, “He knew, and he taunted me and that was the worst thing he did to me, honestly. He knew and he came for me and I couldn’t even tell you guys. I was utterly alone.” He can feel Eddie’s warm hand covering his. He tries to fight back the tears.

“And now everyone and their mom knows, and the clown was right all along. And I didn’t get to tell you guys. I didn’t get to tell you.” Richie only realises how much this matters to him, as he actually speaks those words. A single tear falls down his face.

“Rich”, Eddie says gently, “Richie. It’s okay. The clown wasn’t right. It never was. Because it’s not that big of a deal. It may seem like it is right now, but I promise you, it’ll blow over.”

Richie buries his face in his hands.

“Take a deep breath”, Eddie says, “It’ll be alright.”

“It’ll be alright”, Richie repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Richie lives in LA in the book/movie but I honestly forgot when writing this and it's too late to change now lmao


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So”, he says after a short while, “they guy from the picture. Is he like your boyfriend or something?”
> 
> Richie sighs. “No. He’s just some guy.”
> 
> “Just some guy, eh?”, Eddie grins, “So no boyfriend?”
> 
> “No”, Richie assures him.
> 
> “So, where did you meet the guy that’s not your boyfriend?”, Eddie flashes Richie an innocent smile. Richie knows that Eddie knows where he’s met Dan. He had sent that picture to their group chat. He knows that Eddie wants to hear him say the words gay club so he can make fun of him.
> 
> He’ll be damned if he gives him that satisfaction.
> 
> “At this support group for men that turned gay after looking at your mom for too long”, he says instead. Eddie hits his arm playfully.
> 
> “Yeah”, Richie continues, “it was a huge group. Huge, like your mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments on the last chapter, I hope you like this one as well!

They walk back to Richie’s apartment in silence. It’s not a comfortable silence but every now and then, their arms brush against one another and Richie knows that all will be well. Eventually.

His flat is spotless, and Eddie lets out a pleased grunt at the sight of it. Richie makes a mental note to leave his cleaner a ginormous tip next time.

“Where’s your bathroom?”, Eddie asks, “I wanna brush my teeth.”

“Why?”, Richie scoffs.

“Because,” Eddie says sternly, “You’re supposed your brush your teeth after every meal, Richie. Every. Meal.”

“You had one black coffee”, Richie remarks but he points to his bathroom door.

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to get cavities”, Eddie says dramatically, and then he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _fucking asshole_.

Richie smiles when Eddie closes the door behind him. This he can do. The bickering, the pretend-fighting. This is good. It’s familiar.

Eddie brushes his teeth for no less than ten minutes. Richie kept an eye on the time, and the occasional sound of the running tap, tells him that Eddie’s not doing anything else in there.

“You know”, he says when Eddie finally reemerges, “I think it’s not good for your teeth if you brush them for too long.”

“The fuck do you know about dental hygiene?”, Eddie says as he flops down next to Richie on the couch. 

“So”, he says after a short while, “they guy from the picture. Is he like your boyfriend or something?”

Richie sighs. “No. He’s just some guy.”

“Just some guy, eh?”, Eddie grins, “So no boyfriend?”

“No”, Richie assures him.

“So, where did you meet the guy that’s not your boyfriend?”, Eddie flashes Richie an innocent smile. Richie knows that Eddie knows where he’s met Dan. He had sent that picture to their group chat. He knows that Eddie wants to hear him say the words _gay club _so he can make fun of him.

He’ll be damned if he gives him that satisfaction.

“At this support group for men that turned gay after looking at your mom for too long”, he says instead. Eddie hits his arm playfully.

“Yeah”, Richie continues, “it was a huge group. Huge, like your mom.”

“You’re a dick”, Eddie says, and Richie can tell that he’s trying to put on a serious face. He fails miserably and a smile begins to cover his face. _Cute, cute, cute_!

“So, you just go around and taking boys home with you nowadays?”

“No”, Richie says, “We didn’t – you know what, never mind. What’s it to you, anyways?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’m just interested in your life, man.”

“Okay. How about we talk about your life for a second then? Like your divorce?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about, really. Coming back to Derry, remembering you and the others – it just opened my eyes, I guess.”

“So, how’d she take it?”, Richie asks.

“How do you think, genius? She went fucking ballistic.”

Richie nods.

“You know”, Eddie continues, “it’s weird, like I don’t even think about her. Ever since I’ve been here, I only thought about that whole thing when you’ve brought it up. I don’t care how she’s doing or what she says about me. I’m just glad that it’s over.”

“Yeah, I bet”, Richie says, “Hey, what was having sex with her like?”

Eddie pushes him off the couch.

Richie waits until he can hear the water from the shower hitting the tiles. Only the tiles. If he even begins to think about Eddie in that shower, of the water hitting not only the tiles but his body – his _naked_ body – as well, he’ll be done for. Eddie definitely has a better body than he does. He knows that he goes for runs and shit like that. Unlike Richie, Eddie actually eats a vegetable from time to time. Maybe he even has abs. Richie imagines the water travelling down Eddie’s chest, past the scar. Lower, and lower and – _No! Snap out of it Tozier. Stop it!_ Richie shakes his head like a wet dog and takes out his phone to call Bev.

“Hello?”, Bev picks up.

“Bev. Hi. It’s me. Richie.”

“Yeah, I know. They put the name of the caller on your screen nowadays. They even invented this thing called a touchscreen. Can you believe it? No more buttons to press!”

“Yeah, okay, I got it. Thanks, Marsh”, Richie rolls his eyes at the phone.

“What’s up, looser?”, she asks.

“He’s here”, Richie hisses, “In my shower. I don’t know what to do. Help!”

“Who is? The subway guy?”

“No”, Richie lets out an exasperated sigh, “Eddie!” He whispers the name.

“What?”, Beverly screeches so loud that Richie has to hold the phone a few inches away from his ear, “Why? What does he want?”

“I don’t know”, Richie is aware of how desperate he sounds, “He says, that he’s getting a divorce. I don’t know what to do, Bev!”

“Okay hold up”, she says, “Let me get this straight. Eddie – presumably – sees a picture of you making out with some guys on the subway – “ “We weren’t making out.” “- then he tells his wife that he’s leaving her and takes a flight to fucking New York to see you?”

“Yes?”, Richie asks tentatively.

“RICHIE”, Bev screams, “Come on, even you can’t be _that_ stupid.”

“No, I don’t think it’s like that, Bev. It’s weird, but –“

“Did he ask about the guy?”, Beverly interrupts.

“Yes?”

“Richie, come on! You’re killing me, here.”

“But”, Richie almost whispers, “What if it’s not? What if that’s just one of the weird Eddie things, he does? I don’t – I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him how you feel”, Bev says.

“I can’t do that”, Richie says desperately, “What if he freaks out, what if I’ve gotten it all wrong? I can’t risk losing him.”

“You won’t, I promise”, Bev says, “I don’t think you could do anything to scare him away, he’s like a puppy! Trust me on this, Rich!”

Richie realises that the water has stopped.

“Shit”, he mumbles, “I gotta go, thanks Bev. Love ya!” He hangs up before Beverly has a chance to reply. Right on cue, Eddie steps out of the bathroom.

He’s wearing sweatpants and a tight green shirt. There’s some damp spots on it, probably coming from Eddie’s still wet hair. Richie definitely digs the look.

“Who were you talking to?”, Eddie asks.

“Hernando. My manager. He says I have to acknowledge the whole thing”, Richie lies.

“Ah”, Eddie mutters, “You gonna tweet something related to cocks?”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet. It needs to be funny, you know.”

A grin spreads over Eddie’s face. “I know just the thing!”

“This is stupid”, Richie mumbles, his voice muffled by shirts, hanging from their hangers.

“Come on”, Eddie has to raise his voice, “It’ll be hilarious. Just come out and do a stupid face, that should be easy for you.”

“Fuck off!”

“On three, alright? One, Two, Three!”

Richie pushes the door of his closet open and grins at the phone that Eddie is holding.

“Perfect!”, Eddie beams, “It’s you coming out of the closet. Literally.”

Richie takes a look at the photo. He looks dumb. Richie has never liked the way he looked in pictures. His smile looks stupid, his arms look gangly – like Slenderman -, his hair looks messy. But then he can hear Eddie mumble: “This is cute”, and suddenly he doesn’t mind the photo as much.

“Here”, Eddie shoves the phone at Richie, “post this!”

Richie takes it from him and their fingers touch briefly. He can hear his heartbeat. _Get a fucking grip, Tozier!_ He thinks and opens Twitter.

**@TrashmouthTozier**

*I’m Coming Out by Dina Ross playing in the distance*

“I did it”, Richie breathes out as he hits _send tweet_, “I fucking did it, man!”

“Well done. I’m proud of you!”, Eddie steps closer and puts his arms around Richie. Richie immediately stiffens.

“What are you doing?”, he asks.

“I’m hugging you, you dickward.”

“Since when do you hug people?”, Richie slowly relaxes, “Think of the germs, man!”

“You’re such an asshole”, Eddie sighs, but he doesn’t let go. Slowly, Richie brings his arms up and puts them around the smaller man’s waist. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his neck. His hands rise and fall with every breath Eddie takes. Eddie’s hair is pressed against Richie’s chin. Richie takes a deep breath. He can smell his shampoo in Eddie’s hair, but there’s something else, something that just smells like _Eddie_. Richie decides, that _Eddie_ is his new favourite smell in the world. Fuck lavender, or old books, or freshly mown grass. _Eddie. _He could happily stay here forever, Richie realises.

Eddie let’s go way too soon.

“You should send the picture to the group chat”, he suggests.

“Why?”, Richie asks. He can still feel Eddie’s hands on his backs. He wouldn’t be surprised, if they had left read marks in him, he feels like he’s burning.

“Because they’re your friends?”

With a sigh, he takes out his phone again and looks for the picture.

**Richie**: _Eddie made me do it_

He pockets the phone again, before any of the others have a chance to reply. He looks up and is met by Eddie’s smile.

“You did it”, he says, “How do you feel?”

“Good”, Richie says. Really good. Free.”

Eddie is still smiling. It’s beautiful.

“It must be nice to get a positive initial reaction”, he says and Richie nods in agreement.

“When I told Myra, that I was leaving her because I’m gay, she told me that I was going to hell.”

Richie’s mouth falls open.

“If that’s a joke, it’s not funny”, he says after a few seconds of silence.

“It’s not a joke, Rich.”

“Eds.”

“Don’t call-“

“Oh fuck off!”, Richie interrupts him, “I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, you dick. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m gay”, Eddie simply states.

“You can’t be gay, _I’m gay_!”

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Eddie says sarcastically, “I didn’t know that you had to be the only gay in the village.”

“Eddie!”

“Richie.”

“Why – why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell _me_?”

“How long have you known?”, Richie’s voice is merely a whisper.

“It’s embarrassing”, Eddie says, “You’ll make fun of me.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“The first time I had sex withy Myra”, Eddie sighs, “I was like ’_So that’s it? This can’t be what all the fuss is about!_’”

“Okay, I’m sorry”, a grin spreads over Richie’s face, “I know I promised, but you can’t seriously expect me to not make fun of this? This is gold, man!”

“I hate you”, Eddie says but he’s smiling.

“And then”, he says, “Mike called, and I remembered. I remembered you and how fucking annoying you were all the time. How you would never shut the fuck up and how you always got into trouble and how I felt, when you crushed on that boy at the arcade. How jealous I was.”

Richie holds his breath. This cannot be happening.

“And then, there you were”, Eddie continues, “At that Chinese restaurant and you looked – you looked like _you! _Still awkward, still gangly, still Richie.”

“Eddie”, Richie breathes. Suddenly, he cam feel Eddie’s cold hand in his own. He looks up to meet his eyes and Eddie is looking at him tentatively. Like he’s asking a question. Richie squeezes his hand.

“Then there was this picture. And I thought he was your boyfriend and I thought, well, if it is your boyfriend, surely it must be a new relationship. And if it’s new, then maybe I still have a chance.”

Richie can’t help but giggle at that.

“So, you came here, fully prepared to be a homewrecker?”

“Technically, you’re the homewrecker”, Eddie says, “I left my wife for you.”

And it’s the first time Eddie actually says it. The first time, Richie gets some sort of conformation. It’s all he needs.

Richie stumbles forward, his left hand still wrapped around Eddie’s. His right hand cups Eddie’s cheek and then his lips find Eddie’s mouth. Richie feels like he’s on fire, like he’s actually burning. Eddie tastes of minty toothpaste and Richie’s never realised that he’s such a sucker for toothpaste, but all of the sudden it is his favourite taste in the world.

Eddie kisses him back and there’s a sort of desperation in the kiss, that makes Richie’s knees grow weak.

The kiss breaks and they look at each other, both slightly gasping for air.

“I never want to stop doing this”, Richie confesses, and his voice sounds raspy. The laugh Eddie let’s out sounds almost kind of manic and Richie has no choice, but to draw him back in, pressing his lips to Eddie’s once more.

“Yes”, Eddie mumbles, when the kiss breaks for a second time, “I could definitely get used to this!”

A small French hotel, close to Le Tréport fills with the sound of what can only be described as a screech.

“Ben!”, Beverly Marsh yells, “Ben, did you see this? Oh my God, I can’t breathe. I was right!”

“Hold still”, Ben says, trying to squint at the screen of the phone that Bev is holding up.

“Jesus Christ”, he finally says and takes the phone out of Bev’s trembling, so he can take a proper look at it. Once he registers what can be seen on the phone, he too screeches.

“What the fuck? Bevvy, did you know of this?”

“No! Well, kind of, but no! Isn’t it the cutest?”

“No”, Ben says earnestly, “They’re going to be so fucking annoying.”

He looks at the picture again. Richie is cupping Eddie’s face. Eddie’s one hand is tangled in Richie’s curl, the other one is presumably holding the phone. They’re kissing, but more than anything, they’re smiling.

**Eddie**: _Richie made me do it_

**Richie**: _That is a fucking lie he basically threw himself on me. I didn’t have a choice_

Ben rolls his eyes. _This will be exhausting_, he thinks. But he can’t stop the smile that is beginning to cover his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap!
> 
> I've already got an idea for a new fic, it's an AU and it's going to be filled with tropes and fluff! I can't wait for you all to read it! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Our favourite hypochondriac will appear in chapter 2, don't worry!


End file.
